


Sweet

by Mr_Customs_Man



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Pre-Dragon Age II, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Customs_Man/pseuds/Mr_Customs_Man
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During one of his many escape attempts, Anders hides out in Kirkwall and decides to seduce an innocent, young Brother, only this Brother isn’t as innocent as he seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet

Anders quietly slipped inside the Chantry, squeezing into one of the back pews just as the choir rose from their seats to begin the Chant. He resisted the urge to look behind him; that would only draw attention. This was the third time he had escaped Kinloch Hold, he knew the dos and don'ts when on the run. Do: hide in plain sight. If you act like you are exactly where you belong, with your head held high and a confident stride in your step, then it was more likely you wouldn’t be noticed. So, Anders looked up at the statue of Andraste and folded his hands in reverence- the absolute picture of a penitent believer.

Or, it would have been, if his eyes didn’t stop straying to the lovely choir boys.

The girls were just as enticing, but they were a dime a dozen. It was rare to see a Brother outside of a cloister. Men bore the weakness of Maferath, which meant, according to the Chantry, they were better suited to a life of religious contemplation away from the temptations of the world. Anders raked his eyes over one of the boys. He was a pretty one, about eighteen or nineteen. No older than Anders himself, surely. His hair was brown but the light pouring in through high windows revealed just a hint of red, and his eyes… the light of the Maker was in those eyes. He must have been dedicated to the Chantry as a child to be in service so young. In a way, it was kind of like the Circle: children forced into servitude, indoctrinated against their will, unable to create any sort of familial relationships, all pleasures of the flesh forbidden to them… except that it was considered a privilege to be given to the Chantry. Even the language was couched in such a way to reveal its bias: “given” to the Chantry, but “taken” to the Circle. One child was a gift, the other a shame, and yet both were fettered.

Anders looked at the boy’s face. He looked angelic, virginal. Anders could remember the sermons Mother Mary used to give to the apprentices, warning them about the dangers of the flesh. ‘A dirty mind is a mind that invites demons,’ she used to say. None of the apprentices paid her much attention. They were a bunch of bored teenagers stuck inside all day with nothing to do but have sex. But a young Brother… he probably took such cautionary words to heart. Had he even ever touched himself? He must have. Anders could picture him lying on his bed, exploring his body with tentative fingers. The guilt would be tremendous; he’d pray and beg for Andraste’s forgiveness, believing himself to be dirty and tainted. Anders wanted to show him there was nothing wrong in feeling pleasure, that the Maker created their bodies to be enjoyed. He wanted to hold him gently, take him hard, make him scream his name to the heavens instead of the Maker’s. Anders felt that it was his duty to show this poor, beautiful boy the light.

He got his chance after the service. The Chantry often gave out food to the poor and needy after reciting the Chant; Anders had taken advantage of this on previous escapes. He knew how to make himself look pitiable, how to ply the Sisters with sad looks so that they gave him extra helpings. The young Brother was there with them, all sweetness and smiles. “I don’t think I’ve seen your face before,” he said when his eyes landed on him as passed him a plate. “I am Brother Sebastian. We also run a shelter not far from the Chantry if you are looking for a place to sleep.”

Anders looked down at his feet, schooling his expression into one of embarrassed gratitude and worry. “Thank you, but I… no, I can’t. I’m sorry to bother.” He looked back up then, shyly, his eyes large and baleful. It was a look he had long mastered, one that he had used on some of the mage girls back at the Circle. They’d coo and fuss over him, invite him back into their dorms so that they could personally 'make him feel better’.

Predictably, the Brother took the bait. “Is something wrong? Perhaps I can help you with it.”

“It’s… I shouldn’t talk about it. It would only get you in trouble,” Anders whispered.

Sebastian gave him a gentle smile and touched his arm, feather-light. “I am not afraid, for the Maker is on my side. Are you running from someone?”

A silent nod.

“Someone dangerous?”

Another nod. “They’ll be looking for me,” Anders confessed. “No one leaves the Coterie alive.”

Sebastian sighed, his fingers trailing down his arm to grasp his hand. “I thought as much. It is a very brave thing you did, leaving them. I have heard such terrible stories. Perhaps, if you do not feel safe sleeping in the shelter, you could bunk with me in my cell for the night? I doubt they would be able to get to you inside a cloister. We can speak to Mother Elthina about smuggling you out of the city in the morning.”

Anders was almost taken aback at how quickly his plan seemed to fall into place. He hadn’t even been the one to suggest the idea of sharing a room. Sebastian’s bright blue eyes looked up at him with such innocence and naivety; there was no hint of nervousness at the thought of inviting a strange man into his bedroom. Guilt began to stir within his chest; it felt almost… wrong, seducing a man as innocent as him. But he had no chance to back out, Sebastian was already glancing around, making sure that the Sisters were too occupied with feeding the hungry to pay much attention to them. Then he was pulling him along, still holding fast to his hand, through the Chantry. Anders was led through halls that were meant to be private sanctuaries for the clerics, unseen by the general public until now. Sebastian put a finger to his lips when he stopped in front of a plain wooden door. “This is my cell. Technically, you aren’t suppose to be here. You haven’t taken any vows,” he whispered, showing him inside. “But I don’t think the Maker would punish me for trying to help someone in need.”

The room was plain and unadorned. Just a bed, a desk, and a chair. The symbol of the sun hung above his bed, with the Maker’s Eye looking down at them from its center. Anders wondered if he’d be able to maintain an erection with the Maker staring at them like that, but then he turned back to Sebastian, who smiled at him with complete trust, like some unknowing fawn who had stumbled upon a den of wolves. Anders shifted awkwardly as he felt his erection strain uncomfortably against his cotton trousers.

Sebastian didn’t seem to notice. “I have to leave you now. I have chores, but I’ll be back after evening prayers. Err, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I ever got your name?”

“Yes. Thank you for helping me, and it’s Anders.” Don’t give out your real name when on the run. He learned that on his first escape attempt, but Anders didn’t want Sebastian to be moaning 'Bob’ when he was balls deep inside of him.

The Brother beamed. “May the Maker bless and keep you, Anders.” And then he was gone, back to his duties.

It was pretty boring sitting in that little room for hours on end, but at least he didn’t have to worry about the Templars finding him. He laid on the narrow bed, staring back at the Maker’s Eye as if daring Him to say something about all this. What he was doing wasn’t wrong; if Sebastian said no, he’d stop. But, still… there was this little voice inside him that told him he was taking advantage… and Andraste help him if that voice didn’t sound like Mother Mary.

As promised, Sebastian returned just before sundown. He was breathing hard, his robe was askew, and his lips were red and bruised from worrying them. He looked… well, if Anders didn’t know better, he’d say he looked well-fucked.

“Sorry, I must look a fright.” Sebastian smiled apologetically as Anders sat up. “I had to run here to make it in time. We have to be inside our cells by nightfall, but I wanted to get you some dinner.” He pulled out a small bundle from the sleeve of his robe and passed it to him. There was a bit of bread and cheese tied up inside the kerchief. “Sorry, it isn’t much. It was all I could carry from the kitchens without being noticed.”

“No, this is great, thank you.” He set the bundle aside on the desk and made a point of looking around the cell. “So, uh, is there a pallet anywhere?”

Sebastian gave a little startled jump. “Oh, I didn’t even think of that! I’m afraid there isn’t, but I can sleep on the floor. It isn’t a big deal.”

“No, I don’t want to put you out. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You’ve been through so much already, I’d feel terrible if I let you do that.”

“Well, maybe we could share?”

For a second Anders could have sworn he had seen that sweet smile turn predatory, but what ever dark shadows had been clinging to the edges of Sebastian’s mouth were gone in seconds. “It’s a small bed,” Sebastian answered hesitantly. “If you’re sure, I suppose we can do that. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. Come here, there’s plenty of room.”

Sebastian came to sit next to him, shooting him shy glances and gentle smiles. He could have chosen to sit farther away, but instead he went right next to Anders, settling in so that their legs pressed together. “It’s been so long since anyone’s cared about me like this,” Anders whispered, snaking one hand behind Sebastian to brush against the small of his back, tracing little circles through the fabric and onto his skin. “I’m thankful to have found you.”

He had expected Sebastian to become flustered at the contact, perhaps dither about the Maker and fate. Not to scrunch up his nose and laugh. All of the sweetness that had attracted Anders seemed to evaporate as he giggled to himself. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Sebastian said between breaths. “I didn’t mean to break character. It’s just that is the most ridiculous line I’ve heard in a while.”

Anders pulled away, his mind rocking between shock and outrage. Sebastian must have read the expression on his face because he pouted then, even though that vicious smile still tugged at his lips. “Oh, don’t be like that. I didn’t mean to spoil the mood for you, it was just so funny. Look, you were expecting to deflower a blushing virgin, weren’t you? If you just give me a moment, I can be a virgin.”

“You’re… you…” Anders spluttered. “You’re a liar.”

Sebastian sighed then, irritated by Anders hypocritical accusation. “And you aren’t? Or did you actually expect me to believe that cock and bull story you fed me?” He rolled his eyes. “Do you want your cock sucked or not?”

Anders finally settled on outraged. He had never been so humiliated in his life. Sebastian had been mocking him this entire time! “Yes,” he ground out through clenched teeth. Outraged or not, he wasn’t going to let that stop him from getting laid.

Sebastian smirked like he had already known that Anders would say yes and slid to his knees on the floor. He ran his hands up Anders’ thighs, staring up at him in an obscene caricature of a man at prayer, before unclasping his trousers and pulling him free. “Looks like I didn’t ruin the mood too much,” Sebastian murmured as he stroked his half-hard cock. “You still seem to like me well enough.”

His hands moved with expert precision and before long Anders was hard and aching in his grip. Sebastian leaned forward to lick along his shaft, tracing his tongue along the underside, before sucking at the head.

And then he was going down, down, down.

“Fuck!” Anders yelped, reaching out to grab hold of his hair. He wanted to shove his face down further, choke him until he couldn’t breathe, but Sebastian was already pulling back up with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

“If you want me to continue, you’ll have to be quiet,” Sebastian warned as he ran his palm up and down the shaft with a lazy disinterest.

“I can keep quiet,” Anders insisted, tugging lightly at the strands of brown hair still caught in his grasp. “I was just surprised. I didn’t expect a devout Brother of the Maker to be such an eager cockslut.”

That sharp-edged smirk was back. Anders wondered if whether that sweet smile Sebastian gave him before was nothing but a lie. “Oh, yes, I forgot. I’m supposed to be a virgin, a 'good boy’. Don’t want to disappoint.” He looked up towards the ceiling, his expression one of pure reverence and piety, his lips just slightly parted, breath ghosting over his cockhead.

Anders hadn’t come so hard and fast since puberty.

Sebastian jerked back in surprise as his face was painted white in long, thin ropes. With one hand still on his cock, he tried to wipe the semen away from his eye but it clung stubbornly to his lashes.

“Sorry,” Anders groaned, leaning back against the bed.

“You’re still hard.”

“Huh?” Anders looked up to see Sebastian tugging off his boots and trousers with a single-minded determination, quickly tossing them away without a thought. He watched him crawl up the length of his body until he was straddling his hips. Anders moaned when Sebastian ground his bare ass against his erection; he shouldn’t have been surprised that this particular Brother didn’t even bother wearing smalls underneath his robes.

“Come on, Anders,” Sebastian goaded. “Don’t you want to defile me?”

As if Sebastian had anything left to defile. Whatever virtue he might have once had, Anders suspected he had long given it away for free. Still, he grasped hold of his hip while his other hand sneaked beneath his robe to grasp at the erection tenting it. Sebastian moaned and ground harder, shifting so that he could reach behind him and position Anders at his entrance.

Alarm shot through him at that. “Wait, you aren’t-” But Sebastian was already pushing down and Anders threw his head back, nearly banging it against the wall, as his cock was suddenly enveloped in wet heat.

“You didn’t really think I almost missed curfew just to get you dinner?” Sebastian asked breathlessly as he settled against him, comfortably taking Anders to the hilt. “There was this delightful Templar, just arrived from Ferelden. Templars are so easy to seduce. All I have to do is gush about how brave they are protecting us from those mean mages, and then they’re falling all over themselves, telling me their war stories and showing me their scars. Then they’re bending me over and begging the Maker to help them in the same breath that they’re telling me I take it so well.”

“Templar?” Anders gasped, but whatever errant warning that had crossed his mind soon floated away as Sebastian started to move. His pace was demanding, punishing; like he couldn’t get enough, or maybe he just wanted it over and done with. It was hard to tell. Nothing seemed genuine about him. Anders stroked him in tangent, dry skin catching and rough. Sebastian groaned, bracing his hands against his chest and pushing down harder and suddenly it became a competition with no clear goal in mind. All Anders knew was that he wanted to win, to humiliate Sebastian the way he had humiliated him earlier. Electricity sparked along his fingertips and he watched with glee as Sebastian’s eyes grew comically wide. The heat and sting - not enough to hurt, just enough to bite - brought him quickly over the edge with a shriek. “Anders!”

Hearing his name spill from those lips set him off. He grasped his hips hard, hoping that in the morning his fingerprints could be seen in the lurid bruises, and pulled him roughly down against him. Once, twice more and then his hips were stuttering and he was coming again, mixing his seed with that of some unknown Templar who had found himself ensnared by Sebastian as Anders had been. Sebastian collapsed against him and Anders wrapped his arms around his waist. He could feel Sebastian smiling against his neck and Anders hoped it was sweet and not savage.

“Well, you’ve made it easy enough to find you this time,” a familiar voice called out, dripping with disdain. “The name 'Anders’ being screamed through the whole Chantry was certainly a tip-off.”

Sebastian rolled off of him and Anders could see Ser Rylock staring down at him with that expression that spoke of her barely contained contempt. There was an unknown Mother and another Templar standing with her, looking angry and red-faced at the scene in front of him- obviously, Sebastian’s hapless conquest from earlier. Anders sighed and resisted the urge to beat his head against the wall. Stupid. Don’t give out your real name.

“Mother Elthina!”

Anders was surprised at how quickly Sebastian leapt from the bed, pulling his robes down to cover himself. His face was flushed with embarrassment; so he was capable of feeling shame after all. That was surprising. “This isn’t what-” he began, but cut himself off because really, what could he say? “I’m sorry,” Sebastian said instead, brushing his hair back. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you.”

The Mother just shook her head, looking weary and unsurprised. “You haven’t disappointed me. The only person you can disappoint is yourself.”

“Sorry,” Sebastian offered again, his voice sounding small and lost.

“Come on, Anders,” Ser Rylock ordered. “Put your trousers on. I’m sure by the time we reach Ferelden the Knight-Commander will have thought of a suitable punishment for you this time.”

* * *

Anders glared at his small pile of buttons. At least he wasn’t playing with real money this time. With an irritated huff, Anders folded his cards and watched as Sebastian raked in all he had left. The others were either passed out on the table or had managed to crawl up the stairs to find a bed to sleep on, leaving Anders and Sebastian, the only two sober people left in the Hanged Man, alone for the first time in ten years. They hadn’t talked about that night, and honestly Anders wasn’t sure what to say. It was strange seeing him again. Sebastian was all sweet smiles and kind words, but what was he supposed to think other than it was all a lie?

“So, you don’t gamble, you don’t drink… At least that’s two vows you’ve managed keep.” Anders would never claim to be a subtle man, but even he had to wince at the words that suddenly poured out of his mouth. He didn’t even know why he said it. Ignoring it had been working well for them so far. But he had felt that urge to wind Sebastian up and Anders never could resist it.

Sebastian flushed and shot him a disapproving look worthy of Grand Cleric Elthina herself. “I was an unthinking child, lashing out at everyone and hurting only myself in the process. I have grown since then, it’s a shame you haven’t.”

“What does that suppose to mean?” Anders demanded.

“You thought I was this pure, innocent choir boy and you wanted to sully me. Admit it, you just wanted to get back at the Chantry for all the wrongs you think it inflicted on you by going through me. And here we are, ten years later, and you’re still raging against it.”

“The Chantry has committed crimes, whether you want to acknowledge that or not… but you are right about one thing.” Sebastian quirked an eyebrow at Anders’ sudden admission. “I wanted to defile the Chantry by defiling you. I am sorry for what I tried to do. It wasn’t justice. I’ve realized that now. It was just… lust and anger.”

Sebastian just stared, surprise evident on his face. It was obvious he never thought Anders would admit to his sins. Then he smiled, slow and sweet, and Anders hated the way it still made his heart ache. “Do you want to play another game?” He asked, pushing half of the buttons towards him.

“Alright,” he answered, picking up his cards as Sebastian dealt them out to him.

“You know,” he said after a few minutes, that sweet smile of his - genuine this time, Anders was sure of it - turning mischievous. “You might not have been my first, but you were my last. I never took another lover after that night.”

Anders dropped his head on the table, groaning, as he felt himself twitch inside his trousers. “You can’t just tell me these things!” He whined. Sebastian just laughed.


End file.
